The Spear and the Shield
by superlazygirl
Summary: Two injured souls, two uncertain paths, two nights of searching for answers, and only one blanket. ZukoSong.
1. Down Came the Rain

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. It owns me.

**Summary:** Two injured souls, two uncertain paths, two nights of searching for answers, and only one blanket. ZukoSong.

**The Spear and the Shield**

**Chapter One: Down Came the Rain**

- - - - -

A drenched Zuko let out a frustrated curse directed toward the storm. A flash of lightning and a boom of thunder followed in reply to his insult. He glanced out the window of the ramshackle house and saw the rain pouring in the fierce wind. Even as he watched, the rain became perceptively heavier. He could hardly make out the forest that surrounded the hiding place or the ostrich horse tied up just outside.

When he entered the village he had tried to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, his face wasn't exactly inconspicuous and he had been quickly recognized as the one on the wanted posters. Several bounty hunters had heard the news and decided to capture the fugitive to make some easy money. It didn't take long for them to notice that Zuko was no easy target. Several bruised faces, broken bones, and singes later he had escaped to an abandoned home in the mountains with barely a scratch. What Zuko hadn't realized until his vision began to blur was that the kunai that made the scratch had poison on the tip.

But even more importantly, he was stuck with _her._

He turned his amber eyes to the young woman sitting quietly on the dirty floor. Song looked neither angry nor scared. Zuko was grateful for this; he doubted he would be able to tolerate a whining girl at a time like this.

A fresh wave of sickness caused the former prince to lose his balance. Song was beside him in an instant to keep him from hitting the floor. He thought she would buckle under his weight, but she was stronger than she looked. She brought him slowly down until he was seated and leaning against the wall for support.

"Let me see your wound," her voice was soft, but there was an underlying firmness to it. She reached for his bloody arm and he instinctively pulled away.

She remained silent, but the look in her eyes was enough to tell him that she wasn't pleased with this behavior. He hated being nursed. Even when it had been his own mother he could hardly stand to be treated like a helpless child. He hated to be seen as weak or vulnerable. His stubbornness was quickly compromised when his vision blurred again. Damn. Why wouldn't the room stop spinning?

Song reached for his arm again, and taking his stillness as permission, she began to roll up his sleeve. Her hands were soft and gentle and she tore a piece of her own dress to clean and wrap the cut. She continued to examine him, looking at his eyes, checking his pulse, and placing a hand on his forehead. The intimacy was unfamiliar, and unable to stand her closeness any longer, he pushed her hand away. "I'll be fine," he insisted.

"Your pupils are dilated, your pulse is rapid, and you have a fever. I don't think that qualifies as 'fine.' I think you were poisoned with jimsonweed."

Why did he not like the way she said that? "Jimsonweed?"

"It was only in a small dose, not enough to be fatal, but you'll be sick for quite a while. There's a plant that could alleviate the symptoms, but…" her gaze moved to the storm outside the window. "I don't think I'll be able to find one with the weather like it is."

He would have been surprised by her expertise if not for his memory of the place where they first met. Her knowledge of medicinal herbs was expected considering her work at the clinic and in his case it was now a blessing – _ironic_, but a blessing.

When he first saw Song in the village he could hardly believe his eyes. Zuko hadn't predicted that she would come looking for him, much less for her to boldly demand the return of her ostrich horse. The only thing more surprising than her actions was his. He hadn't expected to be speechless. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine coming face to face once again with the young woman whose kindness he had betrayed. Or that he would risk his life to save her.

It had stupidity on the bounty hunters' part. When they stormed into the small tavern they saw Song grab his arm just as he had turned to walk away. The wrong conclusions were drawn, and being blinded by greed, they sought to capture the fugitive and his companion. Had he been a split second too late the knife would have pierced Song. He didn't know what possessed him to protect her, much less drag her along as he fended them off and made his escape.

She stared at him for a moment, he could feel her gaze burning into his side, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her again. His cheeks burned just thinking about it. Song finally stood and began a search of the rickety little house, what she was looking for even Song wasn't quite sure of. Anything to help keep them warm.

Her search was relatively fruitless; only a few rusted pots, some worn clothing, and a single dusty blanket seemed to be useable. She shivered and tried not to think where the blanket had been all these years, not to mention who or what might have used it, but it was better than nothing.

She shook the dust out and placed the blanket around his shoulders. "You should get some rest," she broke the awkward silence. "I'll keep watch."

"I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to try and find us in this weather." He still wasn't looking at her, but knew she must be freezing without a blanket of her own. "What about you?"

Song smiled slightly. "I'm not the one that's sick and there's only one blanket."

"You'll be sick next if you sleep in those wet clothes in the cold all night. Take it," he demanded. "You need it more than I do."

"Why are you being so stubborn? And why won't you look at me?" His behavior had reached beyond annoying. "Is it guilt? Is that why you can't look me in the eye?"

She could have sworn he was blushing. "It's not that…"

"Then what?"

"…your dress."

"My dress?" Song repeated. What? Was he the fashion police?

"It's wet."

Understanding clicked as she looked down to see that her dress was indeed, practically transparent when wet. Her face turned bright red as she crossed her arms in vain hope of covering herself. He handed the blanket back to her, which she angrily grabbed. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Zuko couldn't think of a response that wouldn't end with her getting violent. Honestly, he didn't need anymore injuries, so he remained silent.

She made a frustrated noise and positioned the blanket until it covered them both. Song was careful to make sure her body was fully hidden under the cloth. She was well aware of the inappropriateness of the situation – no – the complete _absurdity_ of the situation, but she was willing to compromise as circumstances allowed. It was going to be a long night.

Zuko wasn't sure what to make of this turn of events. She was being surprising kind considering she was sitting next to a thief. _Her_ thief. He wondered briefly if this was all some kind of nightmare. Yes, that must surely be it. He wasn't injured and poisoned, he wasn't a fugitive being chased by greedy bounty hunters, he wasn't with Song, and she definitely wasn't lying next to him so closely. On second thought, this was too damn strange to be a dream.

To hell with it, he couldn't stand this anymore. "Why did you come looking for me?"

She shifted a bit. "Why did you steal the ostrich horse?"

"That's why? You came all this way just to ask me that?"

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

He suddenly realized she wasn't quite as sweet as he remembered. How was he supposed to answer her? Zuko decided that lying would be useless at this point. He might as well tell her the truth.

"I needed it."

"To run from the Fire Nation?"

Damn she was perceptive. "I guess you saw the poster too."

"It wasn't long after you left with my ostrich horse that I saw it. So your real name is Zuko?"

He nodded. "Your turn. Did you come all this way just to get it back?"

Song paused for a moment, her deep brown eyes shifted to the floor. "That ostrich horse belonged to my father. When our village burned down he was only thing that survived. It's the only thing I have left of our old life before the Fire Nation. When you stole it my mother told me to let it go, but I couldn't. I couldn't understand why you would steal from us after everything we had done for you. You stole more than an animal; you took a piece of my past and I wasn't ready to let go."

Zuko shifted uncomfortably. Why couldn't the poison have just killed him?

She sensed his tension and continued on regardless. A little guilt would do him good. "I wasn't truly angry until I saw the wanted poster and discovered who you really were. I felt like such a fool for trusting you. I had to get him back; it had become a matter of pride."

For the first time he felt they had something in common. He could understand pride, it was the one thing he wasn't ready to let go of yet. And yet he had to. He was a fugitive of the Fire Nation with no means of support. A common thief. Seeing what he had become had hurt him more than he would ever let anyone see, not even Iroh. As she said, it was a matter of pride.

"So what's stopping you?" He asked.

She raised a brow. "Stopping me?"

"In my condition you can easily take the ostrich horse and leave. So why haven't you?"

"What makes you think I'm not waiting for the storm to pass?"

Zuko was getting seriously annoyed with this question game of theirs. Why couldn't she just answer the damn question?

"If that was your plan you wouldn't have wasted your time tending to my wound just to leave me here to die."

This silenced her. Zuko took a little comfort knowing that he had her cornered.

"You saved my life. I'm just repaying the debt. I don't think I could sleep well knowing that I owed you anything."

So that was it. Song felt responsible for his condition. He opened his mouth to tell her how stupid her logic was, but immediately closed it again. Zuko wasn't ready to press his luck just yet.

"You don't owe me anything. Now go to sleep." With this final declaration Zuko turned on his side away from the girl.

There were so many unasked questions, but Song decided to wait until morning. He needed the rest and her own exhaustion was catching up with her. She lay beside him, her shoulder and hip just barely brushing his. But her troubled thoughts would not afford her a decent night's sleep.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:** That's right. I have brought the cliché that is the Blanket Scenario to the Avatar fandom. Its unoriginality makes me cringe, but for some reason the idea for this fic beat me over the head. Repeatedly.

And me-obviously making it a challenge didn't help.


	2. The Difference Between Love and Loathing

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. It owns me.

**Summary:** Two injured souls, two uncertain paths, two nights of searching for answers, and only one blanket. ZukoSong.

**The Spear and the Shield**

**Chapter Two: The Difference Between Love and Loathing**

**- - - - -**

The scene just outside the old house was common of the Earth Kingdom mountainside this time of year. Rain was falling, no mere sprinkling, but large drops that had reached a depth of several inches. It had been raining for the last two days and in the village of Te-pao, isolated from the rest of the world and now almost completely cut off, flooding was a very real problem.

The villagers were preparing for the worst, groaning as they fortified their homes and waited for the downpour to pass. According to the aching joints of old man Jiro they were in for several more days of rain.

The cabin in the mountains was set away from the rest of the village and the harsh conditions didn't make it the most relaxing of homes. The maintenance alone was enough to drive the former occupants away. Now it served as a sanctuary.

Zuko slowly stirred back into consciousness. Dark lashes fluttered lightly before lifting to reveal a pair of sleep-blurred eyes. It felt like something was inside his head and beating against his skull. His entire body was covered in sweat despite the cold temperature. Zuko felt like death warmed over.

He shifted uncomfortably until he was lying on his back. A voice in the back of his head was telling him that something wasn't right. He closed his eyes again, his breathing short and ragged, and tried to remember where he was. It took a moment for him to recall the memory of the fight yesterday and even longer to realize that there was one less person here than there was last night. Song was gone.

Damn.

All that talk last night had been empty words. He was so sure she had been telling the truth, but perhaps her threat to leave once the storm lightened wasn't quite as meaningless as he first thought. The spot beside him was still warm, testifying that Song hadn't been gone for long, and the cabin's eerie quiet grated on his nerves. His body ached and it took a great deal of strength to get to his feet, wobbling all the while. Zuko fought back the nausea as he slowly made his way towards the door. Damn that girl and her repay-the-debt crap. Just as he was about to let loose a colorful cursing fit he noticed the ostrich horse still tied up outside. What the hell? Why would she leave without taking it with her?

A figure was approaching through the rainstorm carrying something close to her breast. Song entered the cabin wearing some of the old, worn clothing that had been left, and was soaked from head to toe. Her shoes were caked with mud.

"Where the hell have you been?" Zuko had to lean against the wall to keep his balance.

"I found it," the girl held out several herbs as they dripped water onto the floor. She was looking fairly pleased with herself behind those tired eyes.

"Have you lost your mind? Those bounty hunters could still be out there. You shouldn't be moving around on your own."

"I could say the same of you," Song moved to help lead him back towards the inside of the house only to be met by a hard glare that stopped her in her tracks. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This man was as stubborn as an ass. She watched his trembling form make its way back to where the blanket lay crumpled on the floor. His condition was getting worse and she was glad that she was able to find the right medicine in time.

Song took one of the pots she had placed outside to be filled with rainwater back inside. She would need it to transform the herbs into a drinkable substance. Now if only she could start a fire. The wood Song found outside would have perfect had it not been soaked, making her attempts to get the firewood to burn fruitless.

Zuko couldn't stand the sight any longer. "Stand back."

She looked at him uncertainly. Surely he couldn't be capable of bending in his condition?

It was hard for him to concentrate when the room continued to tilt beyond his control. He tried to regulate his breathing long enough to light the fire; his pride refused the possibility that he wouldn't be able to perform the simplest exercise. It took three small jets of flames before the fire caught.

The cup she had given him was filled with a strange smelling liquid which increased his nausea, not cured it. She urged him to drink the entirety of the contents which would have been met with a biting remark had she had not tilted the cup towards his mouth. Unfortunately, the smell wasn't ample warning for the taste. He coughed with disgust between curses. Song didn't appear intimidated. Zuko wondered if threats of death by decapitation were in order to save him from his own demise by this foul tasting medicine. The Fire Nation could have taken a page from Song's book; her persuasive tactics were compelling.

A few moments later his breathing was beginning to return to normal and his fever was down significantly. It almost made him regret his resistance to her care. Almost.

Song had returned to the warmth of the blanket and a wordless quiet lengthened. It was broken when Zuko noticed the mud in her hair. "Hell, your hair too."

She blinked in confusion before pulling the long braid of her wet hair into sight. She untied the binding and started to finger-comb the tangles out.

Zuko watched in unconscious fascination. It was the strangest sight he had ever seen. Song was trying futilely to make her damp, brunette strands presentable while wearing the worn, oversized clothes of a stranger, equally wet and branded by the earth. How was it that this girl defied every definition of beauty and was still incapable of being unappealing? He didn't think she was beautiful – not in the heavenly maiden sense – but she had something. What, he wasn't sure of, but whatever it may be it refused to allow him to tear his gaze away.

Song felt his eyes burning into her and turned to meet two amber orbs. "What is it?"

His eyes were the strangest color she had ever seen. They were so close she could see a few brown specks that speckled the gold of his irises. The more she looked into his amber eyes, the more she felt she could discern. Song could see the outward coldness, telling her that he didn't care. But she could also see something else behind the reserve. Something heated.

Did she see a hint of attraction in those golden depths?

The thought was enough to bring color to her cheeks.

"I like your hair that way." It was nothing more than a whisper. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.

The intimacy was enough to send a shiver down the girl's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She quickly turned away. "So, uh, are you feeling better?" It was a blatant attempt to change the subject.

"I'm fine," he insisted. Although, he suspected he was still suffering from hallucinations. Yes, that explained it.

Song had every reason to hate him. Hell, he knew he deserved it, but he hadn't cared or even given it much thought until now. It was easier to avoid any guilt when he didn't have to look the girl in the eye. Now she was here, sitting so closely that he thought she could hear the beating of his heart.

She seemed to read his thoughts. "I wanted to hate you. From the moment I saw you steal my ostrich horse until I met you again in the village I wanted so much for my anger to have meaning. To act on it."

"Whether you hate me or not, it makes no difference to me." Her sudden confession jerked his defense into gear. Aloofness was the only way he knew how to combat the turmoil of the situation.

"If that's true then why did you save me?" Song wasn't buying his act. When the bounty hunters attacked them in the tavern she hadn't expected for the fight to get so out of hand, much less to be put in harm's way. She thanked the spirits for protecting her, although she questioned their choice of saviors.

She was looking at him directly and he wished wholeheartedly that she wasn't. How was he supposed to answer her when he didn't know the answer himself? It was a split second decision, he moved on instinct. Or was it more? Did he subconsciously _want_ to help Song?

"I don't know."

Song wasn't satisfied with his answer, but feared that provoking him would only cause Zuko to shut down and stop talking completely. But she needed to know.

"Have you heard the fable about the spear and the shield?"

Zuko raised a brow at the sudden shift in the conversation. "What about it?"

She continued to tell the story regardless of his answer. "An armorer was boldly claiming to make the best spears and shields. 'My shields are so strong they cannot be penetrated by any weapon,' he said. 'My spears are so sharp they can pierce any shield.' A man asked him, 'If your spear is thrown at your shield, what then?' The armorer had no reply."

The former prince had heard this same tale from his uncle many times. Hearing it from Song didn't make it more interesting. "By logic, an impenetrable shield and all-piercing spear cannot exist at the same time," he finished the story for her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"The moral of that story is to be careful of contradiction in logic. Zuko, by logic, a man without guilt seeking atonement cannot exist."

"Atonement?" Zuko asked warily. He didn't like was she was implying.

Song was unwavering. "If you truly didn't care if I hated you, if you didn't feel guilty about stealing from me, then you wouldn't have taken such a huge risk by helping me. I think that you saved me, because you wanted to atone for the wrong you committed."

"You're presumptuous."

"I think I'm right."

"And you're arrogant."

"You're hardly one to talk."

Zuko clenched a fist in frustration. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have, but a part of him knew he owed it to her. Perhaps she was right. Maybe by saving her he was not only making up for one theft, but for them all. He hated what he had become. A fugitive and a common thief. Stealing had been the result of a desperate situation, but a part of him felt disgusted by his judgment. It was a bad choice in a sea of only bad choices.

Song saw the fire flare in his eyes just for moment before it faded away. His face was an inscrutable mask now and she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "For months I hated you. I turned you into a heartless cad in my mind to make it easier for my hatred to be justified. When you saved me you shattered that image in an instant."

Zuko's heart raced as she spoke.

"I can't hate you. Not now." Song could no longer cling to the monster she had created inside her head. She saw him once again as the boy that had sat on the veranda silently staring into the night, looking lost and disheartened. Maybe she was being naïve, but Song wanted to believe in redemption. That if given a second chance a person would turn their life around.

"When my father died and our village was destroyed I went into a depression so deep I didn't think I'd ever come out. But I did. Despite the pain, I got up again. I needed to be strong, for me and for my mother. You don't have to be a slave to your circumstances either."

"You don't understand." And how could she? Her past, tragic though it may be, was different than his own. This girl couldn't possibly understand his situation. No one could.

"Then help me understand." Song realized she was sitting next to an enigma. Behind the coldness and the arrogance was a nobler nature than he cared to show. Something _human_. Why did he insist on hiding it? What was he afraid of?

Zuko scowled. He hated airing dirty laundry, especially when that dirty laundry was his own past. Bringing it up would serve no purpose; it wouldn't change a damn thing. But then, he didn't like the way Song was looking at him either.

Her eyes – those large chocolate eyes – held no trace of guile. There was nothing like innocence to tear into a jaded spirit. He felt like she was looking into his very soul and could uncover all his secrets just by gazing. It was like she was searching for an answer to a question he didn't want asked. His heart was hammering so loudly in his chest he was sure Song could hear it.

"Maybe," she said softly, so softly that her words would have reached no one's ears but his own even if the cabin had been crowded with people. "Maybe redemption can be earned."

"Has it?" She looked flustered by his question. Seeing the slight digression in her normally unbreakable composure made it all more entertaining.

Song lowered her eyes to the floor, for the first time unable to think of anything to say. Was she ready to forgive him? She might have stayed like that for quite some time, had a large hand not cupped her chin. He lifted her head back up to meet his gaze.

"Has it?" Zuko repeated. Before she could find her voice to answer his thumb brushed lightly over her bottom lip. It had been a sudden urge he was unable to resist.

Song's eyes closed as she tried to calm her racing mind and heartbeat. She opened them again to find him regarding her with a gaze so intense her face turned a deeper shade of red. Her mouth opened and Song was surprised to discover that she could speak at all, "Yes."

He bent down slowly, as though giving her plenty of time to protest, and placed his mouth gently on hers. The kiss was soft and chaste and all too soon over. He pulled back, his eyes still locked on her, and she looked back at him before lowering her gaze shyly to the ground.

"My first kiss."

Zuko didn't bother to confess that the experience was new for him as well.

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:** The tale about the spear and the shield is an actual Chinese fable. It doesn't belong to me.

I hope you're happy, me-obviously. I still don't know where this is going, but for some reason it's turning out much longer than I first anticipated.


	3. The Masks We Wear

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. It owns me.

**Summary:** Two injured souls, two uncertain paths, two nights of searching for answers, and only one blanket. ZukoSong.

**The Spear and the Shield**

**Chapter Three: The Masks We Wear**

**- - - - -**

It was stupid, really. She didn't _have_ to come along with him. Granted the storm was dying down and Zuko still felt a bit weak from the ordeal, but there was no sense in risking her own health. If they both managed to get sick there was no telling how long they'd be stuck in that run-down little shack of a home and that thought didn't bother him quite as much as it should have.

Her behavior after the kiss was enough to tell him that she wasn't comfortable with the sudden shift in their relationship – if what they had could even be called a relationship. Song didn't show any obvious dislike of the kiss itself, but it was clear she didn't intend to remain alone with him any longer. He simply shrugged off her anxiety as a symptom of the girl's sense of honor. After all, being alone with a man probably wasn't adding a good mark on Song's reputation. Come to think of it, traveling alone wasn't such a good move if she was so concerned about propriety. With all the chaos that had unfolded Zuko hadn't really given much thought to this. Had she really traveled by herself all this way?

Through the pouring rain he observed the young woman who had so quickly suggested that they go in search for food. First she had been receptive of his advances and now she insisted on distance. Women were such irrational creatures. Zuko doubted he would ever figure out how their minds worked.

During Song's earlier search of the woods surrounding the house she had stumbled across other herbs. Not medicinal, but at least edible. She added a few mushrooms to her pile, carefully inspecting each one. A number of species of mushrooms were poisonous and picking them in the wild was risky. It was not a task for amateurs. Separating the poisonous from the edible depends upon only a few recognizable traits. She had already rejected several of her companion's contributions, explaining that the chanterelles he picked were false. A raised brow testified to his inexperience and she was forced to explain by showing him the underside with its sharp gills when a real chanterelle would have blunt veins.

It was becoming more and more apparent in Song's eyes that Zuko had not been prepared for a life outside a palace. He was strong, determined, and perhaps even resourceful when so inclined, but when it came to the simple task of finding food he seemed to be as helpless as a child. But why shouldn't he be? Zuko had been a prince after all. He couldn't help but be spoiled after living in a castle with servants to tend to his every need.

Song felt the rift between them grow even wider. She was a farmer's daughter who knew nothing about life outside peasantry and him a former prince who knew nothing of poverty. But he was learning, she guessed, in his new state as a fugitive. How quickly the proud can fall into despair.

Song knew that all too well.

- - - - -

"What is it?" Zuko gingerly sniffed the contents of the pot boiling over the fire inside the cabin.

"Not much," she answered. Song stirred the soup filled with the results of their foraging. "But it's better than nothing. I'm sorry there isn't more."

"Don't apologize when you're not at fault."

She was avoiding his gaze again and it was starting to grate on his nerves. Why so timid all of the sudden? Zuko opened his mouth to question her, but after a moment's hesitation he closed it again.

There were a lot of things he didn't know about Song, but even more things the girl didn't know about him. He was grateful for this. Song had accepted his apology as well as only a few vague answers to her questions without forcing him to elaborate on the circumstances leading up to his exile and criminal life.

It was strange. The Zuko of his past was the one that he was most proud of, the life when he was still Prince Zuko and the citizens of his country bowed in his presence. Yet here was Song, seeing only the pale imitation of his former glory and witness to his own acts of desperation and still she did not hate him. She was seeing him at his most vulnerable, but when he hated himself for such weakness, she had accepted him. Forgiven him.

They ate their meal in uncomfortable silence. Zuko found himself wanting her to say something – anything, if only to remind him that he was not alone in this house. Song seemed content to eat quietly, forcing Zuko to find something to say.

"How is your mother?" The words felt strange on his lips. Truly, he hated small talk, but hopefully he could lead the conversation in the right direction.

She looked up wide-eyed, having not expected such a question. "She's fine. Thank you for asking. How is your uncle?"

Ouch. This was not the direction he had intended. Desperate to avoid any explanation of why Iroh was not accompanying him now, he simply ignored the question. "Your mother must be worried about you. How long since you left to search for me?" Despite the risk he was going to push his luck. He needed to know if she was being truthful.

She took a moment to form an answer, obviously a bit put off by his evasiveness and sudden interrogation. "My mother is an independent woman. She is more than capable of handling the chores while I'm gone."

"But she must miss you," he continued on. "What do you plan to do once the storm passes? Are you going to travel home by yourself?"

"Why do you ask? Are you having second thoughts about returning the ostrich horse?" She asked defensively.

How he hated the way she would answer a question with a question. "That's not it," he assured her. "I only meant that your mother must be worried with her only daughter traveling alone. It's dangerous."

Tears were starting to form in her eyes and for the life of him, Zuko couldn't figure out why she was getting so upset.

"Don't concern yourself with my mother," her voice was like steel wrapped in velvet. "She's done more than enough for you."

Now he was getting pissed. What the hell was that all about? After everything she said was Song still angry with him for lying to her? Yes, he had tricked her and her mother out of a meal and their ostrich horse. He had admitted it. She had forgiven him. Why did Song insist on dwelling on the past when they had already moved on? This girl's behavior bordered on neurosis. "Your mother's roast duck was atrocious, actually." He shot back.

"You ungrateful…" She was clenching the bowl so hard he feared it would burst under the pressure. Song took a breath and started again. "Your uncle would certainly disagree. By the way, where is he?"

This girl really didn't know when to quit. He was about to tell her it was none of her business, but he suspected it wouldn't be enough to deter Song. "We split up," he answered honestly.

"Split up?" She repeated. "You left that poor old man to fend for himself? Didn't you just say that it was dangerous to travel alone?"

If she only knew. Zuko would be lying to say he wasn't worried about Iroh, but he was the Dragon of the West after all. His uncle could take care of himself. He couldn't afford to think any other way. "Yes, it's risky. But my uncle is a master firebender. _You_ are not. That's why I want to know what possessed you to leave your home to search for me on your own. Did you really hate me so much that you were willing to risk your life to find me and the ostrich horse?"

"You are so conceited." Song shook her head slightly.

He had had enough of this. "Answer my question!"

"You just don't get it do you?" The tears were falling freely now. How could he ever understand what she was going through? "Haven't you ever lost something that was important to you? I have lost my father, my home, the village I was born in, and I _not_ ready to lose anything else. You may not realize what this means to me, but I'm willing to do anything to get it back." Her voice cracked with emotion and she paused for a moment before starting again, softer this time. "But what I _really_ want is the one thing I can never have. I can never go back to the way things were before. All I can do is hang on to what I have left."

To lose something you were willing to risk your life for to regain. Was that not what he had been doing for two years of his life? All that time he had been searching for the Avatar, but his goal wasn't really the Avatar himself. It was what the Avatar represented: The return of Zuko's honor, his throne, and what he had hoped for the most – a father that didn't see him as a failure. He was ready to go anywhere and do anything if only to get his old life back. He could understand her pain.

Song had moved away from him and Zuko wasn't sure how to react in such a situation. Crying hadn't exactly been tolerated in his family and the sight of Song's emotional state was foreign to him. Stoicism – to wear a mask of indifference – was the norm. Her weeping form didn't generate sympathy so much as it reminded him of his own discomfort. He knew this situation called for some sort of consoling on his part, but damned if he knew how.

Song quickly got to her feet before he could figure out what to do next. "I'm leaving," her voice was rigid with finality.

"What? Now?" What the hell was this girl thinking? It was still raining outside, too dangerous to travel in a part of the Earth Kingdom that was no stranger to mudslides.

Song ignored his questions and his shocked expression as she moved towards the door. A sharp tug on her arm halted her escape. She turned to see a large hand clamped on her wrist and the hard, golden eyes of its owner.

"Zuko," he inwardly flinched at the unfamiliar, informal use of his name. "Let me go."

"What do you plan to do? Take the ostrich horse and make your way back home? I told you it's not safe." Really, had she not been listening to him all this time?

"I don't care. I'm leaving, so let me go!"

Zuko resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Such foolishness. How had she managed to keep herself from getting killed with this childish behavior?

He drew her resisting form firmly, but gently, down. With his substantial strength it was an easy enough task in spite of her attempt to escape his grasp. He wrapped muscled arms around her, making it impossible for her to break free from his vise-like hold.

"Let go!" She cried again.

"I can't do that," he replied calmly. "After all that effort to keep you from getting killed by those bandits I'd hate to see it wasted because you suddenly got cabin fever. Why do you want to leave?"

"Why do you want me to stay?" Her eyes shot fire at him.

Zuko suddenly realized how easily he could strangle the life out of Song with her so close. How he hated this question game. "I just told you," he said.

Song stopped struggling, knowing it was useless. She was practically cradled in his arms and as his warmth seeped into her she felt her body relax until she eventually sagged against him. Her temper started to die down and Song tried to rethink the situation. Zuko wasn't going to wait long for an answer and she wasn't quite sure just what it was.

"This is wrong," her voice was barely above a whisper.

"What is?" It suddenly occurred to him that maybe Song had taken the kiss a bit more seriously than he first thought. It wasn't his intention to force her to do anything she didn't want to do and yet having her so close – those soft curves pressed securely against his hard body – made him very aware of their isolation and his own temptation.

"I meant," she amended, "that we shouldn't be here."

He gave her a look. "Then where should we be?"

"Isn't there something that you want? Something that you're searching for?"

Zuko wasn't so sure anymore. All his struggling for capturing the Avatar had been in vain. With Azula on his trail she would surely catch the Avatar and return home triumphant, the favored one till the bitter end. All his life she had wanted what was his. _His_ Avatar, _his_ honor, _his_ throne. She had bested him at every turn so how was he supposed to win?

"It's not that simple."

She regarded him thoughtfully, "You mean regaining your title as prince?"

He didn't respond.

"Well, if it's important to you – if you _truly_ want it then take it back. Fight for what is rightfully yours."

Was she serious? Did Song mean for him to fight Azula with the crown going to the winner? If she had ever met his sister he was sure she would never suggest such a thing.

And yet part of him had wanted that all along. Something in him simply wouldn't let him sit idly by and do nothing about his situation. Giving up was not in his nature. It was his determination that stirred his fighting spirit and pushed him to get up again. He couldn't let Azula win again. He wouldn't lie down and die like a dog.

Song saw his eyes glittering like two shards of gold. "Let's leave. Together. Now."

- - - - -

**Author's Notes:** You know I should just end this right here. I've included all three phrases, it's Soko (although the romance is strangely absent), and it's multi-chaptered. I've met all the requirements.

But – dammit – I just can't leave it like this. One last chapter to go.


End file.
